5 Tintin and the Bookworm
by DisneyPrincess55
Summary: When something of value goes missing, it's up to Nollie to find it...but what if it's been stolen by one of her new friends? Follow Tintin & Nollie's blog: Google search #tintinnollie and click on the second link! Rate & Review! xx
1. Chapter 1

**Hiii! I'm so sorry this one is sorta long-overdue but I've been SUPER busy! Thankfully, Portland got a huge snowstorm and we're up to 2.7 inches and school is cancelled for tomorrow, so I was able to get some work done and FINISH A CHAPTER! See you at the bottom xo ~DisneyPrincess55**

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><p>One<p>

September

"Snowy, wait! Come back, I'm not finished—I still need to rinse you off!" I shouted as Snowy leapt from the metal bucket full of soapy water and raced down the hall. He never enjoyed me bathing him—in fact, I had never seen him tolerate a bath. But whenever Tintin left on some errand or he was away at work and the dog was dirty I was forced to. Now that Snowy was getting older Tintin brought him to work less and less, and neither of them liked it at all.

"Hey, boy, getting into trouble again?" I stepped out of the kitchen to see Tintin at the door, Snowy in his arms. I went to him and wrapped the dog in a towel before carrying him back into the kitchen. "I don't even get a hello?" He called, still standing at the door.

"I should've known better than to wash you when _he_ was getting home," I told the dog, putting him back in the water. Tintin walked into the kitchen just then, but I didn't turn to greet him.

"I see how it is. No hello to the person who saved your life five or six times—" He approached the island where I was bathing Snowy, reached his hand into the metal bucket and threw the water on me. I shrieked in surprise and without even thinking about it, splashed him back. Snowy yapped and, seeing this as a great opportunity to get out of finishing his bath, leaped from the island onto the kitchen floor. While he was running from the kitchen, leaving a trail of wet paw prints, Tintin grabbed a cup and filled it in the bucket.

"No no no—" I shrieked, trying to run from him. He chased me around the island a few times before pinning me against the cupboard and wrapping his arms around my waist. I sighed and looped my arms around his neck, smiling. "Hi," I breathed, and he leaned in to kiss me.

That night, I laid supper on the table. Tintin was bent over a book on the table, chuckling. "Oh no," I murmured, moving to take the book from him, "Another Jeeves?"

"Yeah, and it's great." I took it from him and read the cover.

"_Jeeves and the Feudal_…darling, it would seem you've read this one before."

"That's because I own it."

"So it would seem." I put the book on the bookcase in the living room before returning to the kitchen. I set the food out and he watched me, looking as though he was in deep thought.

"Have you ever found this place to be too small?"

"What? Oh. Well, on occasion…the kitchen is a bit on the small side, and those neighbors upstairs…"

"So you agree."

"Agree on what?"

"That we should move."

"When did moving ever…"

"Well, what if we want to have a family some day? There isn't much space here for two people, let alone children."

"Wait—are you proposing?"

"What? No—"

"Well, when someone tells their girlfriend about the future possibility of children…"

"Oh, well, I—uh…No, sweetheart, I'm just saying that maybe we should get an actual house."

Not hearing his last sentence, I continued with mine. "What if I don't want to marry you? I mean, what if I want to see different people? There are plenty of other boys—"

Tintin, on the other hand, was still continuing with his sentence: "This place is getting too small, and eventually, we won't have any more room, so I think it's best that we—" he caught on to my words at this, and I caught on to his."Wait, what?"

"What?"

"You don't want to marry me?"

"No—I mean yes—I mean, were you even asking?"

"No, I was just _saying_ that we should get a bigger place."

"Well then why did you have to bring the whole marriage thing into it?"

"Because eventually we'll want to get married, and we'll want to live in a house, yes?"

"But what if I don't want to be married to you?" He stared at me, the slight smile that had come with his previous statement flickering away.

"You don't want to marry me?" His voice was merely a whisper, and he looked hurt.

"I wasn't saying _that_—"

"Yes, you were…"

"You weren't even asking! I didn't say I didn't want to marry you, I do, it's just…I'm _seventeen_!"

"I know. I know you're seventeen. I know—I just thought—"

"You just thought we could move into a bigger place."

"Yeah, that's what I was saying before but you brought marriage into it—" He began to laugh, bending his head into his hands and laughing. "What?"

"I love you," he laughed, looking up at me, "I love you so much."

"Oh, do you?" I sat down next to him and he wrapped his arm around my waist.

"I do," he whispered in my ear. His breath moved my hair, tickling my cheek, and I giggled.

"And I love you," I murmured, kissing him.

The following day, I found myself fishing through tall shelves of dusty old books, as well as somewhat new books until I found the Sherlock Holmes section at the library. I plucked one off of the shelf and opened to a random page. "You know my methods, Watson." I recited quietly, smiling to myself and closing the book.

"Precisely, Sherlock," a voice from behind me murmured. I turned to come face-to-face with a fair-skinned, dark-brown-haired girl about my age. I stared at her in awe, fascinated that she knew Sherlock Holmes too. She smiled, light blue eyes gazing at me in awe from behind her bangs, and stuck out her hand. "I'm Isabelle."

"Nollie," I breathed, shaking her hand. "Never before have I met—"

"Another Holmes fan?"

"Another _female_ Holmes fan!" I grinned wider, "This is incredible. Absolutely incredible, I can't believe it!"

"I'm the first one you've met? Well, then I suppose you haven't run into any of my friends—we're _all_ Holmes fans. We're going for tea tonight at my flat…going to discuss _His Last Bow_…care to join us?"

"I don't think I have anything happening tonight," I said, thinking: the one thing I had planned was making supper and talking to Tintin. "I would love to come."

"Perfect! You'll have a good time, I promise. Oh—my address. Here," she pulled a notepad and a tiny pencil from her pocket and scribbled something down. "Here. 144 Sunny Stream."

"That's not far from where _I_ live!"

"Oh, really? That's quite hilarious, really. How is it we've never met before?"

"I dunno, I think _that's _what's hilarious." We giggled and talked for a little while longer. "I—I should be getting back," I said, giving her a small smile, "The time…it's nearly three."

"What's at three?"

"I…just gotta get home, 'tis all," I shrugged, "My boyfriend will be home soon."

"Ooh, your _boyfriend_?" She raised her eyebrows, "You will have to tell us more about him later."

"I will," I murmured, "See you later, Isabelle!"

"You'll never guess who I met today!" I was dangling off of the railing on the staircase when Tintin walked in the door.

"I can't guess, who did you meet?" He pulled off his coat and hung it up before walking over to the sofa and sitting down.

"Another Holmes fan!" He looked at me like it was nothing, like meeting another Sherlock Holmes fan was like meeting another person with blue eyes. "Another Holmes fan who is a girl _and_ my age!" He looked more pleased at this.

"Really?"

"Yes! And she has other friends who like Sherlock, too, and I'm going over to her flat tonight!"

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight!"

"But I had…dinner reservations—" He stood before he said _dinner reservations_ and made for the kitchen.

"What?" _Did he say dinner reservations?_ He never did something like that…

"It's nothing, I just thought maybe you would like a night off from cooking supper. But I guess…I guess if you wish to go to your friend's place, that's fine—"

"How long were you planning to keep the reservations from me?"

He looked as though he was trying to find the words to say: "I was going to tell you five minutes ago…but you know, it's great that you found another friend. I'll take you to her flat in a little while." He pulled out the kettle and began to make the afternoon tea—something _I _always did and he only did when he was stressed.

"If you're going to make a big deal over it, I can cancel—"

"No." He put the kettle down firmly, shaking his head, "No, no, you can go to your friend's place. It's no good for you to be stuck up in here alone all the time. As for dinner, it doesn't matter." But something was up—I could tell by the way he was acting.

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><p><strong>Nollie meeting Isabelle is like Once Upon a Time fans meeting other OUAT fans, or like me meeting other R5 fans. And I had a love affair over blue eyes in this chapter. They came up a lot. Haha. And you'll find out why Tintin's acting so funny in chapter two :)<strong>

**Tintin and Nollie have a blog! Google search #tintinnollie and the first link is the blog :) I'm at 9 followers now! Eee! Remember to review for Chapter 2! ~DP55**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! Here's chapter two :) Portland's up to ~7+ inches of snow, and it's SUPPOSED to melt by tonight...hahaha. ~DP55**

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><p>Two<p>

His Last Bow

He was never like this—he never made dinner reservations without informing me of it—he never made dinner reservations in general. Something was clearly up. He set the tea kettle down and went to the sofa, running his hands through his red hair and leaning back, closing his hands over his face. "Are you okay?" I murmured, from where I stood in the kitchen doorway. He removed his hands from his face and looked at me.

"Why would you ask that?"

"You just seem a little…off."

"How so?"

"Well, for one, you made dinner reservations," I crossed over and sat down next to him, "And two, you didn't bother to tell me about them until the evening of."

"Is that all?"

"Three, you didn't even _care_ that I met Isabelle—"

"My parents died ten years ago today." I stared at him, gaping.

"_Ten?_" My voice was merely a whisper. He looked at me and nodded.

"Yeah. Ten."

"Well, aren't you going to visit them?"

"They're back in Belgium."

"_Belgium_?" This was the first I'd heard of Belgium, after five years of knowing him.

"Uh…yeah, that's where I'm from."

"How have I not heard of this?"

"Because I lived there for a rather short time…I was nine when I left, nearly ten years ago."

"Why did you leave?"

"Well, it's a rather long story, actually…"

"And you're in luck, I'm fresh out of books." I wanted to hear this story more than I wanted to go to Isabelle's house. How was it that I'd known him for five years and yet I had no idea he was from Belgium?

"I uh—I was born in Belgium. My parents…I never saw much of my father but he…he had hair, dark hair and gray eyes. He was always gone on business or something, so it was just my mother and I. She had hair the color of fire and blue eyes like yours. She was the kindest should I'd ever known, very quiet and timid…the thing is, though…I don't remember either of their names."

"What happened to them?" I took his hand in mine and squeezed it.

"It was my father's birthday celebration a few days after his actual birthday. All of their friends and I were at this restaurant, mother had left me there with her friends while she went to get father from work. On their way to the restaurant, their taxi—their taxi was hit on the left side. I read the reports the other day in the library…my mother was on that side and she…she died first, then my father. But the…the taxi driver, he got out with a few broken bones. But I uh—I remember this man running into the restaurant and saying, 'they're dead. They're _dead_.' All of my parent's friends stared at me as if to say, 'what're we to do with that one?' It's funny…I was eight years old and none of them offered to take me in. Not one of them cared enough about their dead friends to take in their son." He looked at me, tears glimmering in his gray eyes, before glancing at the clock. "What time were you supposed to be at Isabelle's?"

"I…don't know." I shrugged, "But what happened after that?" He stood, ignoring me, and went up the stairs.

"Any day but today," he muttered.

"Tintin," I followed him, "I'm right here for you."

"I said any day but today," he turned to say this before searching for words. "I just don't want to talk about it right now."

"Six," I murmured.

"What?"

"That's what time I should be over at Isabelle's." Fighting him wasn't wise—especially on a day like today. I went back to the kitchen and glanced at the little table calendar—September ninth. Come to think of it, I'd never seen a picture of Tintin's parents, let alone ever heard of them. I knew they had died, but I never knew how, or when…or _where_. I was slightly annoyed that he'd never cared to mention his country of origin…he must've dropped the accent awhile ago.

After an eerily silent drive to Isabelle's house, I was welcomed into Isabelle's house by her mother, who directed me to the parlor that put ours to shame. "Nollie!" Isabelle shouted, standing up and looping her arm through mine, "Everyone, this is Nollie. Nollie, this is Ruth, Audrey and Grace."

"Hi," I waved a tiny, embarrassing wave at them. Grace smiled at me, while Ruth looked up for a moment from her book to nod at me.

"Another one," she murmured, looking back at her book.

"Now, Ruth," Audrey said almost immediately. Audrey had a thin face and a bob that fell just below her ears. She reached over and tucked a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear, revealing a tiny pearl earring. "Nollie enjoys Sherlock as much as we do, and we are delighted in her company."

"Right," Ruth muttered, turning a page in her book, "Another misfit."

"We're _not_ misfits," Grace snapped, before turning to me, "We're not. There are five of us now, we're not misfits." Isabelle looked from her friends to me, unsure of what to do.

"Uh…okay. Well, Nollie, why don't you sit down…I'll go get some tea." She was gone in an instant, hurrying off to the kitchen. I sat down on a wingback chair that felt brand-new.

"Why, Nollie, you don't have a book," Audrey's eyes clouded.

"No…no, I don't, actually." How was I supposed to tell them I knew every line of _His Last Bow_? "I uh…have it memorized."

"_Really_?" Ruth looked at me as though I was much more interesting than I had been five minutes ago. "How did you manage that? I'm hardly past chapter nine, school is just so—"

"I…I don't go to school," I shrugged.

"A _dropout_? A dropout that _reads_?" Grace's eyes were wide.

"Well, no—it's…it's a long story."

"We've got time," said Isabelle, setting down a tea tray on the table and sitting down next to me. "Plenty of time." I felt my cheeks get warm as everyone stared at me, waiting. Well, it was now or never if I wanted to make friends… I took a deep breath and told them the story of little orphan Nollie who had to live with her aunt Martha for several years before she was saved by the sweetest, most amazing person in the world—_Tintin_.

"He bought you bread, and that's how you met?" Grace smiled, "That's so sweet."

"In a…strange sort of way," I shrugged.

Tintin picked me up at eight and drove me home—the ride was, again, eerily silent. "Hi, Snowy," I smiled, scratching the dog behind the ears upon entering the door, "How are you?" Snowy wagged his tail and licked my hand before walking away.

"Did you have a good time?" Tintin asked as I headed towards the stairs.

"Yeah," I turned to look at him, smiling, "It was nice. We were there to discuss His Last Bow…but we never got around to it. Besides, they're all currently reading it…they were shocked I'd read it already, and memorized it…they're so busy with school—" I cut off, biting my lip, and walked up the stairs.

"You wish you could've finished school," he spoke slowly, "Don't you?"

"Of course," I stopped, turning towards him again, "Just like I wish our parents were still alive." He nearly flew up the stairs to reach me.

"You realize, if our parents hadn't died, we never would've met." He moved closer to me.

"We may have," I whispered, "But we'll never know."

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><p><strong>So Tintin's family story...I don't know if he even has parents, living or dead, I've never seen it mentioned...? So I wrote it as that. And they do have names, I just wasn't sure if they actually had names so for now they're nameless. If anyone knows the true story, that'd be amazing to know. And the Belgium thing was just to clear up the fact that he IS Belgian, I just wasn't sure when I began to write the first story because Jamie Bell is English. I'm not the smartest teenager out there. <strong>

**Audrey is based (loosely) on Audrey Hepburn.**

**Please review for Chapter Three! xx ~DP55**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! Sorry this is so late! I've been SUPER busy with school and stuff-that will all be wrapping up within the next month, yay! See you at the bottom xx ~DisneyPrincess55**

Three

The Ring

That night, I lay awake in my bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. After an hour of laying there in silence, I rose and walked through the dark hallway to Tintin's room, climbing onto his bed. He was reading a book, propped up against several pillows sitting against the headboard of his bed.

"Hey," he murmured, "What're you still doing up? I thought you fell asleep hours ago." He closed his book and set it aside, leaving me room to snuggle up next to him.

"I could say the same for you, it's past midnight," I looked at him, "You really don't remember your parents?" He sighed, staring off into space. His room was dimly lit with a lamp on the right side of his bed, and while I waited for his answer I watched the flame flicker on the ceiling.

"I've tried," he was speaking low, making his chest rumble when he spoke, "But it was so long ago…"

"You've nothing to remember them by? No sweet memory of a picnic on a Sunday afternoon, no…" I searched for words, "No birthday party, no special gift they gave you? _Nothing_?"

"You ask far too many questions." He leaned back on his pillows, closing his eyes. "Like I said, I rarely saw my father. I spent most of my younger years with my mother…and sure, we went out to the park a few times, but there was no…no ritual Sunday picnic, no…" He thought for a moment, "No sweet memories. Just the memory that they're gone and I couldn't stop them from going."

"But even though you don't have any sweet memories, you still miss them."

"No," he shook his head, "I don't, actually. I don't remember what my mother enjoyed doing, I don't remember what my father did for a living, though I've tried." He continued to talk, but I had lost consciousness—falling fast asleep.

The next day I turned on the radio and danced around the house for half of an hour before Isabelle telephoned—I had told her to yesterday before I left. "Nollie! Would you like to come over again tonight?"

"I—I suppose," I smiled at the thought—maybe I had actually come off as appealing to the group, maybe I'd made friends.

"Great! Be at my place at six thirty, okay?"

"All right, I'll see you then."

Tintin was home by three—he always got home early on Wednesdays, which I was always forgetting. "Noll?" He called as he entered. I glanced over at the grandfather clock from where I stood in the kitchen and smiled.

"It's Wednesday!" I grinned, hugging him.

"How was your day, my sweet magnolia?" One hand was wrapped around me, the other fiddling with my braid.

"What do you think the answer is?" Being home alone all day was the worst and he knew it. After a few seconds of silence I smiled. "Can we go to the park? The ducks in the pond—they'll be leaving soon, and the trees are almost all changed! Can we _please_?" He reached for my coat and slipped it over my shoulders without a word.

"Of course we can."

I ran ahead of him as soon as we reached the park—I went straight for the duck pond, only stopping when I got to the bridge. There were four ducks in the pond and I frowned as Tintin reached my side.

"We're too late," I sighed, "They've already left."

"No they haven't," he pointed to the four ducks: two sitting on the mucky bank, the other two paddling around in the water, "There's still those guys right there."

"Isabelle's invited me over again." I slipped my hands into my sleeves, protecting them from the nipping autumn air.

"I think they really like you."

I smiled at him. "Really?"

"Really." My smile widened.

"It's funny, I thought my only friend would be you…and Rawnie…"

"You are, very often, wrong, you know." I pushed him and the second he regained his footing he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek—I stopped him, a false frown making an appearance on my face. "Hey—"

"I could've been wrong about _you_," my expression was trying, and for a second he almost looked as though he regretted saying what he said.

"And were you?"

"I don't know yet." I kissed him, "Sometimes I'm unsure, but most often I think yes."

"When—_why_ are you unsure?"

"Your miscommunication of the fact you're from _Belgium_," I folded my arms across the chest, "Honestly, why didn't you ever bother to tell me?"

"I didn't think you would really care, I mean, I'm here now, isn't that what—" he caught my icy stare and swallowed the rest of his sentence. "Right. Sorry, sweetheart, I just…"

"Didn't think I would care about where you were _born_? No, of course not. For all you know, I could've been born in Russia."

"Sweetheart, come on, it can't be this big of a deal."

"But it is—it _is_ a big deal, Tintin…I've gone through this entire relationship thinking you were from here!"

"Maybe I was embarrassed."

"Why would you be embarrassed?"

"Because—never mind. We should go." He began to walk off of the bridge, but I stayed put, watching him.

"No, I want to stay here," I protested.

"Nollie—"

"It's a nice day, and I want to stay out for awhile longer. Don't treat me like I can't take the cold. It's just September." He muttered something and moved back to my side. "When did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you were in love with me."

He glanced at me for a second before staring out at the water, silent. "A long, long time ago," he murmured, before adding, "Two years, give or take. I was seventeen, and it was completely unexpected." He paused, "I mean, how could I not fall in love with you, Noll? You're the prettiest girl in the entire world." I grinned shyly and looked at him. "And you? When did you know?" He stared at me, almost expectantly, for a moment while I thought of what to say.

"When you…when you caught my arm and saved me from falling off of that stupid boxcar," I smiled a content smile and he reached for my hand.

"Glad you didn't fall." My mouth gaped at his comment and I had to hold myself back from smacking him.

"That's a pretty necklace," Audrey smiled. She was sitting beside me on Isabelle's sofa, head tilted so her short brown hair covered her thin jawline, "Is that a ring?" She started to reach for it but stopped herself.

"Yeah," I lifted it before pulling the chain from my neck, "Here, you can look at it." I placed it gently in her palm and she gazed at it.

"I wanna see!" Grace shifted forward in the wingback chair, taking the necklace from Audrey and staring at it, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "It's so pretty, Nollie, oh my goodness—" She handed it to Ruth, who examined it for a moment before changing the subject.

"What did everyone think of _The Adventures of the Dying Detective_?" She asked, and almost immediately Isabelle began to talk of the events in chapter nine and how she completely, absolutely saw them coming, and suddenly the room erupted as Grace and Isabelle began to talk at the same time, joined by Audrey.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew he wasn't _actually_ dying. Sherlock would never do that to us—" Isabelle exclaimed, "Never would he die. I couldn't imagine—"

"Hey, why don't we include _Nollie_ in this conversation?" Ruth shouted, and everyone hushed and stared at me expectantly.

"I—"

"She's memorized the entire thing, do we need to ask her?" Isabelle chuckled, and Grace began to talk again.

That evening, I told Tintin of everything that had happened at Isabelle's. "They all found it curious how we always go on holidays together," I giggled, "But they adored my necklace. Audrey loved it." He looked at me.

"And where is it?"

"Where is what? My necklace? Why, it's right…" I reached for it, only to find it wasn't there. "Here…it was supposed to be _here_!" I stared at him for a moment. "My coat. Perhaps I lost it in my coat—" I rose and went for the coatrack, checking the pockets of my coat. "Maybe…maybe it came off when I was in my room—" I went up the stairs to my room, searching the floor, my dresser—the necklace was gone. I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking hard. "It's gotta be…"

"Nollie—" Tintin sat down beside me.

"I lost it. I lost my ring _again_—"

"It'll turn up, I'm sure of it."

"How could you be? Last time we found it because of Kioni. She gave me the chain so I wouldn't lose it again…" I scrunched my face up and rested it in my hands.

"I know. But we'll find it, okay?"

"And if we don't? That ring…It meant so much to me…with it, you were always with me."

"I'm here now." He paused before adding, "Sweetheart, it's a piece of silver with a few little diamonds on it. It's hardly—"

"Yes it is worth something, don't you say it isn't—"

"It's not worth your tears, sweetheart."

"Well I believe it is." With that, I rose and went to get my coat.

"Where are you going?" He was standing at the top of the stairs, staring at me quizzically.

"Out." I left with that, not another word was spoken.

I had been meaning to visit them for quite some time, I had just always found another reason as to not go. I always went when I was sad or lonely—If I was able to visit them.

"Hi, Mama," I murmured, touching her gravestone.

**Whew! Hope you enjoyed that chapter, be sure to review & check out my blog (Tintin and Nollie's Blog Thing, just google it, it's the first link) I'll keep you all up-to-date with what's going on in my life & when new chapters are going to be posted) :) love you all! ~DisneyPrincess55**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! I'm BACK! Okay, so I know this chapter isn't super amazing or anything. I'M SORRY! I've been completely blocked with this story for the ENTIRE SUMMER...or whenever I started this chapter. Anyway, it sucked. I'm sorry. So...yeah. BUT HEY! Today was my first day of my senior year. Class of 2015, baby! :) See you at the bottom! xx**

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><p>Four<p>

Eighteen

The wind whistled eerily through the trees as I touched my father's gravestone. "Papa," I whispered, a single tear sliding down my cheek, choking back a sob, "It's been too long." I fell to my knees between my parent's gravestones, letting the tears loose. The bond I'd shared with my parents was irreplaceable—and now they were gone. They knew me better than I knew myself—every little detail, every little eccentricity I had about myself, they knew of. They had known of. How I always read long past my bedtime as a girl, my tendency to drop things—they knew it all. Within minutes, my hiccuping sobs stilled, and the cemetery was silent.

"Figured you'd be here." My breath caught in my throat.

"Don't do that," I stood, teetering, and turned. His silhouette gave him away—the lighting behind his head illuminated his bright hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart." His breath billowed out in front of him in a foggy cloud.

"How long have you—"

"I just got here. I…followed you."

"Why?" I brushed the leaves from the base of Mama's stone gently, whispering '_I love you'_ as I did. The leaves were covered in mud and I wiped the filth from my hands onto my dress.

"It's nine thirty at night and you just got up and left," he tilted his head, "I have the right to be concerned, sweetheart."

"I know. Sorry. I just—"

"You haven't seen them for awhile. I understand completely." I moved towards him and he wrapped his arm around my waist in silence. I tilted my head towards his shoulder, a single tear slipping down my cheek and falling to the grass.

The next morning, I awoke to the autumn sunlight in my face, blinding me. _It must be about ten o'clock_, I thought, I shielding my eyes and sitting up, feeling for my necklace. I sucked in my breath when my fingertips were met with emptiness, and I sank back on my pillow. It was gone. Tintin had already left for work—I was alone—and I had nothing left to keep him with me.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and my toes brushed Snowy's fur. "Snowy, why aren't you with—" I clenched my lips together and looked at him, "Why aren't you with Tintin…?"

"'Cause I stayed home today." Tintin was in the doorway.

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

"Why—"

He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "I figured we could look for your ring. Now that it's day—" I smiled. Sometimes all I needed was Tintin's hope and everything would be better. He made everything better: it was impossible to be upset with him around.

"I honestly have no idea where on earth it could be," I announced when I walked into the kitchen several minutes later, wearing a light pink and yellow dress, "It just vanished, I swear—"

"Nothing just vanishes, sweetheart. It's out there somewhere."

"How are you so sure?"

"I just am." I glared at him. "Confidence, darling. It helps."

I sighed and picked up the tea kettle to fill it with water. "Still…"

"It's out there somewhere, Nollie."

"Well of course it is. It's just…I don't know _where_…"

"Why do girls grow so attached to things?"

I sighed, setting the tea kettle on the stove, "It means a lot to me, Tintin. _You_ gave it to me, one. Two, when I wear it, it's like you're always with me."

"I am always with you."

"But…not always. Do you understand what I'm saying? You go to work every day—" he looked as though he was about to interrupt but I corrected myself. "_Nearly_ every day. And then I'm left alone. All day. So when I have my necklace, it's like having a piece of you with me, even when you're not."

"Even if you don't have your necklace, I'm still always with you…in your heart." I smiled at this.

"True," I sat down beside him at the kitchen table, "Is that all you stayed home for? To tell me that it's okay that I lost my most valuable possession?"

"Nah," he shrugged, "I wanted to go check out your old house. Y'know, cause…this place is gonna be too small soon." I shot him a confused glance.

"What do you mean?"

"W-well, um, sometime we'll wanna have friends over, right? Yeah. And, we'll need space for people. Say… say you wanna have your friends over. We don't have space for a bunch of girls in this tiny place."

"You're right," I looked around the kitchen, examining its size, "Yup. This place _is_ too small."

"Precisely my point." He stood, "Do you think Isabelle will ask you over again today?"

I tilted my head, thinking. "I don't think it'll be at Isabelle's tonight, if we meet. Possibly Ruth's…though I'm not sure. I'll find out later."

He smiled. "I'm glad you found them."

"Really?" I beamed, "I thought you couldn't have cared less."

"Oh, believe me, I am _so_ glad. You can't just sit around alone with books all day, sweetheart."

"I can _too_!"

"It's healthy for girls to…find each other. It's healthy for feminine communication, sweetheart. So, yes, you _can_ sit around alone with books all day, but you really shouldn't." I crossed my arms and glared at him. "I'm just being honest, sweetheart. 'Cause, really," he picked up my extremely worn copy of _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, "Sherlock isn't always good company."

"He is too!"

"Sometimes," he shrugged, "but other times, nope. Other times, you need someone like Isabelle to talk to. To relate to. Sherlock is a man, you're a girl."

"I'm almost eighteen."

"Girl."

"_Woman_."

"Young lady." He set the book down and disappeared, finishing the conversation. I'd rather be a woman than a girl or a young lady. A woman could be so much stronger than a girl. Girl is often used to make someone seem small—however, a woman can be thought of of as powerful. Tough. Someone who could withstand anything. I wanted to be known as a woman now—not a girl. Almost eighteen is not considered a little girl. Almost eighteen is considered an adult. Adult girls are women. I'm a woman. _I can fend for myself_.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes I know I KNOW that wasn't super amazing. Again, I'm sorry. Anyway. I have two advertisements for this chapter! The first one is for a little thingy called <strong>**Tintin and the Anti-Spam Establishment****. It's a FF community my friend PinkPencilGirl and some Tintin fans on FF started to make a place for Tintin fanfics that were GENUINE, not just the fluffy, useless things one may come across in the Tintin tag nowadays. My stories are in there! (I feel really accomplished by this) anyway, so please, check that out! :) fanfiction community/ Tintin-and-The-Anti-Spam-Establishment /114948/3/0/1/**_ (remove the spaces)_

**ALSO: you know the drill... CHECK OUT MY BLOG! I ****_try_**** and keep up-to-date with what's going on in my beautiful mind. It's a little tough. I get busy. tintinnollie. tumblr. com **_(remove the spaces)_

**I LOVE YOU GUYS! Chapter five soon, I promise! :)**

**xx, DisneyPrincess55**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, my loves! Here is chapter five :) enjoy! I'll see you at the bottom :) ~DP55**

Five

Fight or Flight

The next morning, Isabelle telephoned while I was getting ready for the day.

"Good morning," she said cheerily, "Have you found your ring yet?" I'd called her frantically the night I lost it, asking if she'd seen it.

"No."

"That's a shame. Would you like to come read _His Last Bow_ with us tonight?"

I chuckled, "Would we actually be _reading_?"

There was a giggle before she answered, "_Maaybe_…probably not."

Tintin drove me there, and I talked nonstop for the entire four minute drive about Sherlock and how much Isabelle adores him. "She wants to marry him," I giggled, "Boy, am I glad I'm not single."

He chuckled as we pulled up to her house. "You can just walk home, is that all right? I've got a few things to finish up on."

"Oh, that'll be fine. I'll see you in a bit…I love you, goodbye." I kissed him on the cheek and went inside.

At eight thirty, I departed from Isabelle's house. It was dark, save for the streetlamps, and I followed their light down the street, turned the corner and continued home. At long last, I reached the building directly across the street from ours. I noticed a man approaching just to the left of me, a tall man—I couldn't make out his face. Thinking he was a neighbor, I waved, and he moved towards me faster, approaching so quickly I had a scarce amount of time to react. He grabbed me before I was able to flee and thew me against one of the buildings. I had just enough time to bring my arms up to protect my head before I collided with the wall, keeping me from being knocked out. Instead, I toppled to the sidewalk, only to quickly regain my footing as he pulled a knife from his belt. I hadn't a second to lose. He lunged at me, and I screeched for help as his knife passed across the top of my hand, bringing up a thin line of blood with it. I moved to disarm him, grabbing for and throwing his knife into the street and punching him straight in the face.

"_Nollie_!" I heard Tintin shout, and in an instant he was across the street. By now I had given my attacker a fairly decent bloody nose. I was holding him by his collar and I dropped him, staring down at where he lay on the ground, at his face. His eyes were wide at terror as he stared back up at me.

"You're…you're just a girl," he sputtered.

"Damn right I am," I hissed, wiping the blood from my fist, never once losing eye contact with him. Tintin tied him to a water pipe and turned to me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured, holding my bleeding hand. He lifted me up like a princess and carried me home.

"What—I'm fine, I can walk," I protested.

"I know." He left me on the sofa and went for the telephone, ringing up a number and waiting. "Hello, boys!" He exclaimed after a moment, "Yes, I'm well. Hey, listen: Nollie caught a mugger on our street. No, he hardly touched her, _she_ was the one to beat him up. All right, bye." He disappeared for a moment before returning and giving me a rag for my hand. "Come on," he beckoned for Snowy and I, heading for the door.

"Am I—am I going to get in trouble?" I asked as we crossed over to the scene.

"What? No, sweetheart, it was self-defense. Besides, this guy's been getting people around here for a few weeks. Nobody's been able to catch him. Noll, you're basically a hero." _A hero? That was far from what I felt like. _

"All I did was unarm him and punch him a few times." He ignored me, instead hurried ahead to break up the small crowd of our neighbors forming around the man.

"Nothin' to see here, boys," he told a few boys who were peering at the mugger.

"Are y' sure he's dead?"

"Mister Tintin, he looks like he's breathing!" Their names were Walter and Peter, a pair of brothers who lived in our building.

"That's because he is, Peter," said Tintin, "Now run along. It's far too late for you two to be outside."

"How'd y' catch 'im?" Asked Walter.

"Oh, I didn't catch him, Nollie did."

"Miss _Nollie_ caught a_ bad guy_?"

"That she did."

"Wow, Miss Nollie, you're _amazing_!" Peter, being the polite older brother, always used mister and miss before our names, even though we were eight and seven years his senior.

"Well, I wouldn't say _that_—"

"It's true though, she is amazing," Tintin smiled at me before turning back to the boys. "You two ought to run along. Nollie'll take you home." I rolled my eyes at him before leading the boys back to our building. I dropped them off at their place before going back to ours and starting a pot of tea. I peered out the window at Tintin, standing there with Thompson and Thomson, talking. I sipped my tea and shut the curtains, going up to my room and getting on my pajamas. It was nine o'clock now and I was positively exhausted from my ordeal with the mugger. "All right, all right. G'night. Come on, Snowy." Tintin shut the door and milled around for a few minutes before coming up the stairs to my room. "You left the teapot on," he said, standing in the doorway.

"Oh, I'm quite aware of that," I mumbled, getting up and going for the stairs. He reached for my arm and spun me around so I was facing him before leaning in to kiss me.

"You beat up a mugger that's been on the loose for three weeks now," he exclaimed while I poured myself another cup of tea.

"Yes, I know."

"He won't be jailed up for very long, perhaps a year or so. But still, you _caught a mugger_ with your _two hands._"

"Yes, I know."

"Nollie, you should've seen it, it was _incredible_."

"I saw it, I know what I did."

"Well, you don't sound very pleased with yourself."

"'Cause I'm not."

"And why is that?"

"Because…I guess, it wasn't _me_ who was beating that guy up…it was some other girl, some…_freak_, some freak who has watched so much fighting she just picked it up on her own…If I had never watched you, I wouldn't…I wouldn't know how to do that…I'd've been in trouble."

"But you beat him up. Nollie, sweetheart, you're the town hero."

"I don't feel like one."

"Well, you are one." He paused for a moment, "Y'know, no girl could've done a stunt like that. Only, say, a _woman_." I turned and smiled at him.

"Really?"

"You are officially a woman, Nollie, as well as the town hero." He was beaming, too—possibly more than I was. "And I am so proud of you." That was obvious. You could hear the pride in his voice—it was that of a parent gloating about their child.

"Pride is a sin," I chided, and he stood to envelop me in his arms.

"Not when you're proud of your girlfriend." He kissed my hair, then my nose, then my lips. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you more," I smiled.

"Not possible, sweetheart."

His words made me swell with joy, and I went to bed with them echoing in my head. _Not possible._ Not possible for you to love me more, sweetheart, 'cause I love _you_ more. But I loved him more. I was sure of it—hence why I said it. After all, for the longest time he was the only friend I had. He was my best friend, and I loved him more than anything, ever. He was surely the best thing that had ever happened to me—that I was completely certain of. He saved me. He saved me from Aunt Martha, he'd saved my life on several counts…and I was so grateful, so in love with him…

"It is too possible." I had shuffled across the dark hallway in my socks to Tintin's room—it was one in the morning, and he was sound asleep.

"What?" He sat up quickly, and I could see his silhouette through the lamplight coming through his window. He always slept light when he first fell asleep—just in case I had a nightmare, "Nollie? Is everything all right?" I scurried over to his bed like a tiny mouse in a nightgown and got in beside him.

"Everything's fine," I smiled, "I just love you more. It's possible, I know it." He, sleepily, smiled at me.

"Right. Go back to sleep, Noll."

"But your bed's warmer than mine," I pleaded, "_and_ I'm already comfortable." I snuggled deeper into the covers and laid my head on his spare pillow, squeezing my eyes shut. "Goodnight."

The bed shifted as he moved closer to me, and I felt an arm reach underneath my back, another over my chest, and Tintin's body pressing up against my side. He rested his nose against my shoulder and inhaled deeply. "Goodnight, I love you more."

The next morning, I awoke before him. I turned myself towards him, watching him sleep—he was like an angel when he slept, eyes shut, expression calm…now and again his eyebrows would furrow and his lips would twitch as though he were saying something or thinking or…who knows. Eventually, he woke, stretched his arms and his gray eyes fluttered open in my direction.

"Good morning, I love you more," I murmured, kissing him on the nose and getting up.

I expertly flipped the egg in the pan with a simple flick of my wrist and caught it on the pan again, grinning at my newfound talent. Tintin entered the kitchen, cloaked in his brown cotton robe. I grinned at him, showing him the egg, "I flipped it," I giggled, "All by myself. No spatula."

He smiled at my handiwork and kissed my cheek, wrapping his arm around my waist in the process, "I love you more, you silly girl." He disappeared into the dining room at that, and I scoffed.

**The whole "I love you more" thing is based off of me and my boyfriend. Hehehe :) CHECK OUT TINTIN AND NOLLIE'S BLOG! tintinnollie. tumblr. com :) (remove the spaces) I love you all! 3 ~DisneyPrincess55**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys! I'm baaack :) took a long time with this one, I was SUPER blocked and senior year takes a lot of work. Anyway, hope you enjoy Chapter Six! See you at the bottom ~DP55**

Six

Cold

The air nipped at my nose as I watched a lanky, blond-haired boy ride by on his silver bicycle, nodding his head in my direction as he zipped by. Easton, the baker's son. He'd been my friend back in school and I was surprised he still remembered me. My friend Cecelia was convinced he had a fancy for me—she was wrong, of course. What little boy fancies a little girl? Especially one like me. My nose was always stuck in a book—no one could ever see my face. My mother would always chide me for this, especially when my grandmother, her mother, was over. "Nollie," she'd murmur, "Grandmother Ruth is trying to speak with you."

"I just gotta finish this page," I would mumble, not even looking up at her.

"Nollie, sweetie, please." At my mother's persistence, I'd gently fold the book closed and look up at my grandmother—a shrewd, pale woman in her late sixties. My grandfather had passed away a few year prior, when I was four, and his death had brought great trouble on her life. Without her husband she was nothing, she was feeble by herself, and she eventually was forced to live with us for a few months before she died when I was nine. I remember the day she died—I returned home from school to find my mother sobbing on the sofa, my father sitting adjacent to her, trying to console her. I rested my bookbag on the floor and rounded the sofa to face them.

"Mama?" I echoed, glancing from her to Daddy and back again.

"Nollie," Daddy let out a sad sigh before continuing, "Grandmother Ruth died this morning."

"Oh, no," I murmured, "Daddy, is it because I forgot to tell her I loved her this morning, before I went to school? Because—"

"No, Nollie, it's not your fault," he murmured, shaking his head, before turning to my mother, kissing her hair, whispering "It's going to be all right, Angel," and standing. He led me to the kitchen and murmured, "Grandmother Ruth's death is not your fault, honey. She was eighty years old, it was simply her time."

"Her time?"

"Yes, honey. Everyone has a time when they must leave the earth behind. Now, you mustn't be sad…Grandmother Ruth is with your grandfather again. She's happy. You mustn't be sad, you must be strong for your mother."

After my parents died I wondered if it had been their time. The question wracked my brain for years, it caused me to lose sleep on nights when I needed it most—before I finally came to the conclusion that it was, indeed, their time. It had to be.

I was deep in thought when a figure sat down beside me—a tall, dark-haired man I'd never seen before in my life. He was scribbling something in a notepad, head bent so I couldn't see his face. "Good morning," I murmured.

"Is it a good morning, then?" He looked up at me, "May be for you, but it isn't for me." He sounded Scottish.

"Why's that?"

"I have no reason why I should tell you."

"Are you not accustomed to telling random strangers about your troubles?"

"I am not, fortunately, especially not strangers like you." His tone was sarcastic.

"I'm Nollie," I grinned, reaching out my hand for him to shake.

"Porter."

I was about to respond to him when Tintin's voice interrupted me.

"Nollie," he called, and I jumped in surprise.

"You're supposed to be working!" I grinned, moving towards him.

"I know," he murmured, staring over at my new friend. "Are you acquainted with him?"

"Not really. His name's Porter."

"We're leaving."

"But I just got here!" He grabbed my hand and dragged me—I never got a chance to say goodbye to Porter.

I drilled Tintin when we got home. "What are you doing home at this hour? It's a _Monday_! Why did you make me leave the park? I was having fun. What's wrong with Porter and why is he the reason why you made me leave?"

"Nollie," Tintin went into the kitchen and filled the teapot with water, "Give me a moment, please."

"Okay, but can you at least tell me why you're home early?" What if he got fired? My stomach churned at the thought. He couldn't get fired…they wouldn't fire him…

Tintin sighed, set the teapot on the burner, switched it on, then turned to me. "I took the day off."

"But you left at the same time you usually do—"

"I know. I had a meeting. Some guys from Scotland…"

"What was it about?"

"That's classified information, I'm not allowed to tell you anything." He never kept anything from me.

"Are you sure?" I drew myself closer to him, wrapping my arms around him.

He let out another sigh and wrapped his arms around my waist in return. "I'm positive. Nollie, you know I tell you everything. I want to tell you, but I simply cannot."

"Why?"

"I'm not allowed to."

"Was Porter part of the group?" Tintin paused at my question.

"Yeah, he was."

"Well then, he must be a good guy then, right?

"No," he said flatly.

"What? Tintin—"

"They're safe to be around, sweetheart, it's just…their intentions aren't good."

"What does that mean?"

"They need information on several important—" He cut himself off, sucked in a breath, and never finished his sentence.

"Several important _what_?" I asked impatiently, "Tintin, they don't know who I am. They'll never know I know anything."

"They do know you, sweetheart," he murmured darkly, "You met one of them in the park today, remember?"

I stared at him, confused. "Porter? But he has no way of knowing who I am…" Tintin was silent, and I stared at him. "How do they know who I am?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

**Okay, I feel like that last bit might've been repetitive? Sorry if it was. I kept looking over it and thinking, 'gee, it sounds repetitive...' but I couldn't edit it without messing everything up...I don't know. I feel silly and lazy. Anyway, review for chapter 7! I'll get working on it right away. Also check out Tintin and Nollie's blog: tintinnollie. tumblr. com (remove the spaces) you could also just google search Tintin Nollie and it'll be the first link xD See y'all later! ~DisneyPrincess55**


	7. Chapter 7

**HI GUYS! I'm back. Not as long of an absence as last time, and I promise that will never happen again. Anyway, here's chapter SEVEN! I'm thinking this story will be roughly ten chapters. Ah. ~DP55**

Seven

The Mill

"How was your day, Nollie?" Isabelle asked. She'd been calling me every evening for a week now, and I always delighted in talking with her. She'd go on and on, telling me about her day at school, how far along she was in her new favorite book, and then ever-so-quietly gush about this boy who sat in the seat adjacent to her in school.

"His name is Wesley," she cooed, "He's blond, and he's got green eyes, and—" she began talking so quickly that all I heard was a hum through the receiver.

"Isabelle?" I called into the phone, thinking she'd hung up.

"W-what?" She paused, and the hum stopped.

"You were talking really fast," I chuckled.

She laughed, "Sorry. Anyway, how was your day, Nollie?"

"Boring, compared to yours," _Always is,_ I thought to myself, "I wish I'd finished school."

"Why didn't you?"

I paused at her question. Did I feel comfortable telling her about Aunt Martha? The only person who knew was Tintin…

"No reason really. My parents moved around a lot…My mother took up teaching me from home, but when she died…"

"Oh, I understand. I'm sorry, Nollie."

"It's all right. It was a long time ago, actually."

"How did your parents die?"

"They, uh… They were killed. Car accident."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah."

That evening, Tintin and I were eating dinner in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. Snowy yapped and raced down the hall, Tintin following him. "Stay here," Tintin instructed as I got up to follow them. Ignoring him, I stood in the doorway and listened, peeking out to watch every now and then. He opened the door and almost immediately tried to close it, but a black leather oxford stopped the door from closing.

"Please," the shoe's owner squeaked, "Please let me talk to you. Listen—listen. I don't want anything to do with the vault anymore. Okay? Now, please let me talk to you…"

"Fine." Tintin pulled the door open slowly, glancing back at me and shaking his head. He mouthed something I couldn't catch and motioned for me to leave. I ducked back into the kitchen and hid behind the doorway, listening. Tintin led the man with the oxfords into the parlor, inviting for him to sit on the sofa.

"Splendid place you have here," Oxford man said. His voice was heavily Scottish, making me think of Porter. Oxford man got up from where he sat on the sofa and I heard the floor squeak right in front of the fireplace. "Who's this? She's awfully pretty."

I could see Tintin from where I stood, and he tensed at Oxford man's discovery, "You aren't here to talk about my place," he growled, rising from his chair and snatching the photograph from him. "Please, sit. Would you like some tea?" Oxford man sat on the sofa once more, and I got a glimpse of his face. Jet-black, wiry hair, handlebar mustache, dark eyes. He looked nice enough. What did Tintin have against him?

"Sure," Oxford man shrugged. Tintin rounded into the kitchen, so quickly he startled me. He reached for the tall cabinet containing the pots and pans and tea kettle, beckoning to my side. He sifted through the pans noisily even though the kettle was right in front of him, and leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"You need to get out of here."

"Why?"

"He's onto you. I can't let him know you're here."

"Tintin, he seems—"

"It's an act, Nollie. I know it."

"But—"

"Go to the dining room and stay there. Now. Please," he instructed. I looked at him and he nodded. He finished his ruckus with the cabinet and grabbed the kettle, filling it with water, and setting it on a burner. He went back out to the parlor at that, apologizing to Oxford man as he entered. I snuck back into the kitchen after he left, listening to their conversation.

"Forgive me, the kettle had been misplaced," Tintin murmured, sitting down once again.

"Oh, no worries. Now," Oxford man leaned forward and lowered his voice to a tone I couldn't make out. Tintin leaned away from him after he finished speaking, shaking his head.

"No. I thought you were finished with the matter?" As soon as he said this, the kettle began to whistle. "The tea…" He moved to stand, but Oxford man was quicker.

"I'll get it for you, Mister Tintin," he announced, marching towards the kitchen with Tintin on his tail.

"No, Mister Bateson, that's quite all right," Tintin tried to stop him, but it was no use. He was in the kitchen in an instant, and I was face-to-face with Mr. Bateson, the oxford man. Tintin entered a moment later, horror flickering in his eyes when he saw me. "Nollie," he murmured, "I told you—"

"Why, the girl in the picture," Mr. Bateson smirked, "You're much prettier in person."

"Do not speak to her," Tintin pushed himself between myself and Mr. Bateson, "She is not involved in this matter."

"She is too," Bateson looked at me wryly, "She's been listenin' to our conversation." Truly, I had, but I hadn't heard whatever Bateson had whispered to Tintin a moment before. All I knew was that whatever he'd said had made Tintin very upset.

"I have not," I snapped, standing up straighter, "I have not been listening." Bateson took a step forward and Tintin prepared to block him from coming any closer.

"Then what were ya doin' in the kitchen?" Bateson hissed.

"Well, a woman belongs in the kitchen, correct?" I shrugged, sarcastically. "Honestly, why do you care? It's not like I could understand a word you said, with that accent," I challenged.

"Nollie," Tintin chided. I turned to leave, but Bateson grabbed my arm.

"Let _go_ of me," I snarled, yanking my arm from his grasp and storming out of the kitchen and up to my room. Bateson left not long after that, with Tintin promising he would never be allowed back into the flat. After he'd gone, Tintin appeared in my doorway. "Please tell me what he told you," I murmured. He walked to my bed and sat down beside me, close enough for me to lean my head on his shoulder.

Tintin explained everything. There's a rickety old mill several miles away from here, in another town. It had once been a shoe factory, but it was shut down twelve years ago due to a fire taking out the entire top floor. "On the top floor, there is a vault hidden in the wall. The vault has tens of thousands of dollars inside of it. _Tens_ of _thousands_, Nollie. Anyone who finds that vault is rich."

"So what's the catch?"

"It is virtually impossible to reach that level of the building."

**Oooh. I've actually had the idea of an old mill for years now. Since I was a freshman, when I first started writing these stories xD isn't that crazy? And NOW I'm using it. Anyway, review for chapter eight! Yay! And check out Tintin and Nollie's blog... tintinnollie. tumblr. com (remove the spaces. Or just google search tintinnollie and it's the first thing that pops up.) ~DisneyPrincess55**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys! Since I got 0 reviews on my last chapter after it had been up for 58 days, I decided to go ahead and post this one. It's kinda funky, but yeah. Anyway, I'm proud to say that I am now a high school GRADUATE, as of June 5th. I started these stories in April of my freshman year (3 years ago.) Anyway, see you at the bottom! ~DP55**

Eight

Ruth

I'd gone to bed early that night. After Tintin had explained everything to me, I finished my dinner, cleaned up the table, kissed Tintin, and went to bed. The next morning, I awoke to a body sleeping next to me. I shifted, sitting up quickly, only to relax when I saw it was Tintin. He was curled up under a blanket, head resting on my extra pillow, sound asleep. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, whispering his name. "Tintin," I murmured, "Wake up." He groaned and opened his eyes, smiling when he saw me. "What are you doing in here?"

"My room was cold," he mumbled, yawning, "I couldn't sleep, so I came in here."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you looked like an angel." He sat up and leaned over to kiss me softly, his lips trailing across my cheek before returning to my lips once more. "My angel."

"Do you think you'll go see Isabelle today?" Tintin asked. He was scarfing down his breakfast. I shrugged, scrubbing the pan I'd cooked our eggs in. There was a knock at the door at this moment, and I went to get it. "No, stay here," he instructed, striding through the parlor towards the door. He opened it, and Isabelle and Ruth stood there in the doorway, smiling.

"You must be Tintin!" Isabelle exclaimed cheerfully. He smiled and opened the door wider.

"Nollie, your friends are here," he called, inviting them in. "C'mon, girls, it's chilly out." I walked into the parlor, greeted my friends, invited them to sit down, and offered them tea before I noticed Isabelle was shooting my outfit a questioning look. Confused, I looked at my dress and realized that I was still in my. nightgown.

"If you'll excuse me," I flushed, rushing up to my room as fast as I possibly could, pulling on a royal blue dress with long sleeves, quickly brushing my hair, braiding it, and pinning it up against the back of my head. I was looking myself over in the mirror when there were footsteps on the stairs and Tintin entered my room. He walked up behind me and rested his head on my shoulder, beaming. "What?" I smirked, looking at him.

"You look beautiful, Angel. Don't worry about what they're going to think." He kissed my cheek. "I love you."

"I love you more," I grinned, kissing him before walking out of the room.

"I _love_ your dress," Isabelle gasped when I walked into the room. "It's such a pretty color! Where did you get it?"

"I uh…I don't remember, honestly." Isabelle laughed, and Ruth smiled. "So what brings you two over here?"

"Ruth has something for you," Isabelle began, turning towards Ruth. "She found it in her coat pocket—"

"_Iz_," Ruth chided, "I can tell her on my own, thank you." Isabelle shrugged and murmured an apology. "Anyway, I found this in my coat pocket last night, and I know it's yours…I'm so sorry for accidentally taking it…" She reached into her pocket and pulled out something jingly, holding it by its chain.

"My _ring_!" I shrieked, tears beginning to brim in my eyes. "You have no idea how worried I was about this—" Tintin walked down the stairs then, and I got up to show him. "Tintin!" I beamed, "Look what Ruth found!" I showed him the ring, and he smiled, kissing my forehead.

"I knew it would turn up, sweetheart."

Isabelle and Ruth stayed for a few hours, talking about school and Isabelle buzzed about Wesley. He'd come over to her house the day before, to meet with her brother, Ethan, who attended his school. Oddly enough, instead of hanging around Ethan, Wesley hung around with Isabelle—stirring up Ethan's curiosity. "He's totally onto me," Isabelle laughed, "I won't tell him that I fancy Wesley, never, but I think he knows."

Later that evening, I was cooking dinner with Tintin, talking about Isabelle and Ruth's visit. "I wonder what it would be like to have a brother," I thought aloud, "I wonder what my parents would've named him. Maybe Jonathon, after my father…" Tintin chuckled at this. "What?"

"Why wonder about what your brother's name would be?"

"Because… I don't know, I just wish I had a sibling." There was a knock at the door. "Perhaps that's Isabelle," I smiled, leaving the kitchen and going to the door. Tintin made a move to stop me but I avoided it—I wanted to open the door for once. He was always so worried that there would be someone bad on the other side and that he should be the one to open the door first. Just in case. "Good evening," I smiled, opening the door. Two gigantic men stormed into the room, pushing me out of the way.

"Hey!" Tintin shouted, rushing over to me. "You okay?" He murmured, and I nodded. He whirled around, facing the men—they were tall, their hair as wiry and jet-black as Bateson's was. "You have no right to barge in like that with a lady around—" Tintin snapped, "You have no right to barge into my home."

"You said you'd tell Bateson where the vault is."

"I said no such thing," Tintin wrapped his arms around me. "I never said I would tell you where the vault is—"

"You know we need it."

"Why do you need it?" I heard myself say.

"Who's this?" One of the men, slightly bigger than his accomplice, looked at me, sizing me up.

"I'm Nollie."

"That's a pretty name," the other man smirked beneath his thick, black beard. _First time I've ever heard that_, I thought. "How do you know Tintin?" He asked, and I folded my arms.

"I'm his girlfriend."

"Oh, you are?" The bigger man asked, tone challenging. He glanced between Tintin and I, smirking. "Funny couple."

"If you're not here for anything, you must go, or I'll call the police—" Tintin stepped forward. He was tiny compared to the men.

"Tell us where the mill is." One of them growled, "And we'll be out of your hair."

"I will never tell you." The men looked at each other and nodded.

"Fine, then." One of them took a step in my direction and glanced at Tintin. "Does _she_ know where the mill is?"

There was a short pause before Tintin spoke. "No," he growled, "I have kept the location of the mill a secret from everyone."

"Even your pretty little girlfriend?"

"Even from her." The man looked at me again, snorted, and then turned to Tintin.

"You _will_ tell us," he snarled, and Tintin stared at him, unnerved.

"Please," he insisted coldly, gesturing towards the door, "You were uninvited into my home. If you will please…" He opened the door, staring at the men until they moved outside. He then shut the door, closing himself outside with the men, where he began speaking to them in a hushed tone. I put my ear against the door, trying to make out what he was saying, but to no avail. Moments later, the talking stopped, and the door opened, pushing me back against the wall.

"Noll," Tintin sighed when I emerged from behind the door, "You weren't listening, were you?"

**See, that last part was kinda funky. Anyway, please review! Love you guys :) ~DisneyPrincess55**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey howdy hey y'all! Here's chapter nine! I'm thinking I might make another story after this one...a short one...Idk. Anyway, see you at the bottom! ~DP55**

Nine

Into the Inferno

"Nollie, tell me everything you heard," Tintin demanded. He had his hands wrapped around my shoulders, so he could look me straight in the eye. "_Nollie_."

"I didn't hear anything," I shrugged, "The door muffled everything."

"I sincerely hope that you are telling me the truth," he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Nollie, those men are dangerous, and if you know anything at all that could jeopardize your safety, I hope that you will tell me immediately."

"I didn't hear anything," I rolled my eyes, "And besides, even if I did, who cares if my safety is jeopardized? I've been in danger so many times now… it's like second nature to me, being in danger. So it doesn't matter if I heard you or not. It doesn't." He stared at me. "Now," I stood up straighter, "If you'll excuse me, my dinner has been left unattended and it quite possibly burned to a crisp by now." I stormed to the kitchen, biting my tongue to keep from cursing as I stepped into the room full of smoke. I hurried to the sink across the room, filled a pot with water, and walked back towards the oven.

When I opened it, more smoke billowed out, choking me. I dropped the pot and, remembering Tintin's lesson about how smoke rises, I fell to the floor, crawling away from the smoke, hoping it would stop soon. "Nollie?" Tintin shouted from the doorway, but he didn't go for me immediately. His footsteps trailed towards the window, then the sink, before he reached me again, a wet towel in his outstretched hand. His other hand was covering another towel against his mouth. "Get outside now," he shouted. I crawled, one-armed, towards the doorway, still covering my mouth and nose with the towel, only turning around when I got out of the room. Tintin was moving towards the flame-engulfed oven in an attempt to close it, and I got to my feet, running for the phone. I had just dialed the fire department when there was a shriek from the kitchen and the oven door slammed shut. I threw the phone so it was dangling from its cord and ran back into the kitchen. The smoke was thinning, and I saw Tintin standing by the sink, hand under the faucet.

"Oh my God," I shrieked, running to him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said through gritted teeth, "I can handle this."

I ran back for the phone. "Hello? Hello, is anybody there?" A man's voice answered, and I began to explain everything that had happened in the past five minutes, beginning to sob halfway through my explanation.

"Is the fire out?" The voice asked, and I sniveled an _I dunno _as my reply. "It's going to be all right, darlin', we will send an engine over immediately." He hung up, and I turned to see Tintin standing there.

"Nollie, I'm okay," he stammered, "There's no need to call a fire engine."

"Yes, there is." I walked towards him, "Show me your hand." He extended his hand from where it lay on a small, wet towel. It was red and blistered, and I cringed. "They'll be here soon. The fire department will be here soon, and they'll help you…" I felt tears begin to sting my eyes again, and I blinked to diffuse them. _I can't cry. Not now_…

"What bad luck," Tintin sighed.

The firefighters were here in minutes, and they bandaged Tintin's hand and gave him an ointment to soothe the damaged skin. "You should be fine, but if it begins to ooze or bleed or anything, go right to the hospital," the firefighter instructed, and Tintin nodded. They helped me clean the oven and took my burned dinner with them, as it was deemed a "hazard to have in a home." Once they'd left, Tintin fell asleep on the sofa and I went to go bathe—I reeked of smoke. Though I was starving, I felt I needed to be clean before I could remake dinner. I sat there in the tub, resting my chin on my forehead, and thought about the last half an hour. Tintin's words echoed in my head over and over again—_what bad luck_. The duck I had paid a whole pound for caught on fire. What bad luck. I was potentially in danger again. What bad luck. Tintin's hand had been badly burned. What bad luck. Honestly, the day couldn't get any worse.

I toweled myself off at the end of my bath and pulled on my nightgown, making for the kitchen to make myself a sandwich to settle my roaring stomach. The entire room was hazy and smoky, and no amount of fanning the air would get the smoke to disperse. The window in the far corner of the room was wide open, but it did no good. I reached for the loaf of bread and a breadknife and began to cut myself two slices of bread when Tintin spoke.

"I'm sorry about today," he murmured, and I jumped.

"You scared me. I thought you were still sleeping," I smiled, turning to him and holding up the breadknife, "I would advise that you don't do that again."

"I need to go to the mill," he announced right as someone knocked at the door. He raised an eyebrow, glanced at his watch, and walked to the door. When he opened it, there was a gasp from the person on the outside.

"Oh my gosh! You're okay! Where's Nollie?" Isabelle burst into the house and into the kitchen. When she saw me, she threw her arms around me in a hug. "_Oh_! Nollie! You're okay! I was so worried—I heard there was a fire engine and I just got so worried…"

"Oh. Hi, Isabelle. I'm okay," I gasped, suffocating beneath her grasp. She let me go, and Tintin appeared in the doorway. "The mill?" I prompted, and he nodded.

"Yeah…the mill. You and Isabelle are coming, too."

**The fire was super unexpected but I figured, since they left the oven on when those guys were there...y'know x) anyway, please review for chapter 10! & tell me what you think about another [SHORT] story:) ~DisneyPrincess55**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! Guess who's on a roll? THIS GIRL! Second chapter this week:) (I just really wanna finish this story tbh haha) See you the bottom! ~DP55**

Ten

The Mill

"What do you mean, Isabelle's coming too?"

"Well, I cannot leave you two here. That would be absurd."

"Nollie, what is he talking about?" Isabelle was staring at me, eyebrows furrowed, "What mill?" I had no choice but to explain everything to her. I was terrified at what she would say to the situation, what she would think of me after she learned of everything.

But more often than not, people surprise you. "That sounds like an adventure!" Isabelle smiled, "I get to be part of your adventure?"

Tintin looked at her, shocked. "All right. Well, we need to go—" He went for the door, pulled his coat off the rack, and stared at Isabelle and I. We stared right back, not moving. "Well, come on now, ladies!"

"I need to change…" I laughed, staring at my nightgown and socks. "I can't go out like this…" I raced upstairs and changed in an instant, pulling my boots on as I walked out the door with Tintin and Isabelle, my own trench coat draped over my shoulder. We got in the car and Tintin started it, pulled away from the curb, and drove off into the dark. I looked at Isabelle, seated beside me in the backseat of the car. I searched for any sign that she wasn't enjoying this impromptu adventure—but she looked perfectly happy, smiling out the window at the countryside passing by.

When we arrived at the mill, Tintin shut the engine off and turned to us in the back. "All right, ladies," he spoke very quietly, as to not let anyone hear but us, "I have a plan for how we are going to get the top floor."

"But isn't it impossible?" I heard myself say.

"Nothing is impossible, Nollie," he stared at me for a moment before continuing, "Anyway, I have a plan, but you're going to have to listen closely and follow every instruction in order for it to work…"

He finished explaining the plan—which turned out to not be _that_ tedious—all it required was for me to walk across a beam on the destroyed top floor, like a tightrope walker, and get to the other side of the room, where the loot was. We got out of the car, walking towards the mill, which was completely boarded up. It was a gigantic brick building, seven stories tall. Tintin scanned the perimeter with his flashlight, before handing it to me. "You first."

"What?"

"I said, you first. You go first into the mill." I stared at him, not touching the flashlight. "Nollie, be brave."

"Fine," I gingerly took the flashlight. "Now what?"

"Now, the door is hidden behind that bush right there—he pointed toward a gigantic, overgrown hedge, "You'll need this to remove the branches," he handed me his pocketknife, and I examined it closely.

"_That's_ gonna cut the bush back?" Isabelle laughed, "It'll take five years. You need something bigger."

"We don't have anything bigger," Tintin muttered.

"Iz, this is as good as it gets for hedge clippers when it comes to us," I chuckled, trying to lighten the tension between Tintin and Isabelle.

"All right, well then… let me do it." She took the knife from my hand and began to hack at the bush with the blade. When this proved difficult, she began to take branches in her hands and snap them, one by one, until the door was in view. She twisted the knob and shoved the door with her shoulder, which, instead of opening, just creaked and blew dust onto her cream-and-floral top. She brushed her hands on her navy skirt and tried again. Tintin moved to help her, and they both tried shoving the door opened. It gave way and they both fell forward into the entryway.

"Let's go," Tintin rounded back towards me, gesturing for me to follow. As soon as I entered the dark building, a car tore into the gravel lot outside, screeching to a halt right as several men leapt out. Tintin cursed and shut the door.

"Who are they?" Isabelle asked.

"Get out of here," Tintin was pressed up against the door, trying to use his weight to keep it closed from the approaching men, "GO! Get upstairs and remember the plan." I stared at him. "Nollie, go!"

"Not without you!"

"I said go."

"Nollie, be brave!" Isabelle grabbed my hand and took off, dragging me behind her, for the spiral staircase a few feet away from us. "Go!" I clicked the flashlight on and raced up the stairs as fast as I could. I counted the floors as we went—one, two, three…and then there was a gunshot from downstairs. The first thing I remembered made me shriek—Tintin was unarmed. I froze and screamed his name. I was about to turn and run downstairs when Isabelle stopped me.

"Be brave," she reminded me. "He'll be okay." Just then, we heard thunderous footsteps coming up the stairs after us, and she gasped. "We need to keep going. Come on!" She pushed me forward, and we kept onward. Fourth floor. Fifth floor. Sixth floor. Seventh, eighth… by the ninth floor, we were exhausted, but Isabelle was persistent. "C'mon, Nollie! Sherlock wouldn't give up now. We gotta get to the vault!" I rolled my eyes at her and kept climbing.

Tenth floor. Finally.

I opened the door directly in front of us and gasped, teetering in fear. There was literally no floor beneath us—just a few charred beams holding up the remaining walls. This time, it was Isabelle who cursed. There was a main beam stretching out in front of us, leading right to the vault on the clear other side of the room. The walls were forty feet apart. I exhaled deeply and looked at Isabelle.

"Will you hold up the flashlight for me?" I asked her, gulping.

**I have been wanting to do the scene where they run up a staircase in an old, abandoned mill since I first started the series. Seriously! Like, a week after I started writing, I was at a church camp in this cute little town and they had this huge mill near where we were staying and I was like, "I want ****_that_**** in my story." 'Course, it didn't end up in Prophecy Stone, but hey, at least it made it! Haha. Anyway, REVIEW PLEASE! 3 ~DisneyPrincess55**


	11. Chapter 11

**Well, guys, this is it. The last chapter of Bookworm! (It's also the longest chapter since #1.) Anyway, thank you so much for following my stories you guys. I love you all! ~DisneyPrincess55**

Eleven

Finale

I exhaled, relaxed my tense muscles, and put my left foot on the beam in front of me. "You can do this," Isabelle whispered from behind me. The beam of light was shaking, and I smiled.

"Iz," I murmured, "Try to stop shaking." I took another step, rebalanced myself, and placed my next foot down on the beam.

"Right. Sorry." I stepped forward again, rebalanced, and took another step. _How many more steps?_ I gazed forward at the wall before me and wobbled, nearly toppling over. "Careful," Isabelle called.

"I know," I grimaced. "I still have a ways to go, don't I?"

"Nollie, you've barely gone five feet—" she was going to continue, but she stopped herself and was silent. "Oh my God," she whispered, "Nollie, they're coming!"

"Well what do you want me to do? I'm six feet out—"

"Just don't move," she snapped, "Okay? Do not move." She flicked the flashlight off, and I was in the dark, balanced on a beam, three stories above the next flat surface.

"But—"

There was a shout and the sound of the door being flung open, as well as the footsteps of several men thundering through the entrance.

"Isabelle!" I heard Tintin shout, "Isabelle, where's Nollie?" His voice had an edge of panic to it. I teetered at his voice, relieved he was still alive.

"She's over there." The beam of light shone against my back once more, right as my leg cramped and I toppled off of the beam, plummeting down to the ground.

"NOLLIE!" Tintin and Isabelle shrieked simultaneously.

The world slows down when you're falling. Time could almost stand still, really. The only thing that was working quickly as I fell was my brain—I was thinking about how I could protect myself from the impact of the fall. _My head_. I pulled my arms around my head to create a cushion for my skull. I must be coming near the floor now…

I landed in a pillow.

Well, what felt like a pillow, at least. I removed my arms from around my head and opened my eyes to see what had saved me from an untimely death.

A gigantic bag of straw—a mattress made of straw had caught me. It must've been where the workers slept during the nightshift—it was a miracle it hadn't been destroyed in the fire, although it seemed as though the fire hadn't touched this floor. I rolled off of it right as Tintin and Isabelle raced in. I was enveloped in Tintin's arms before I even had a chance to say anything else.

"Are you okay?" Tintin let go of me and stared at me for a moment before hugging me again, "You scared me half to death!" Tintin's arm was drenched in blood—he'd been shot downstairs. The men appeared in the room at that exact moment.

"Mister Tintin!" One of them shouted, approaching us, "We demand you give us the money now!"

Tintin wrapped his arm around me as they came closer. "And how do you expect us to get it? Nollie almost died trying to get it—"

Suddenly, I was yanked away from Tintin and one of the men laughed a deep, menacing laugh as he held a knife to my throat, "Well maybe this time she'll _actually_ die." I squirmed, trying to escape, but the man held the knife closer to my throat, so close that it was almost breaking skin. Despite the fact that I was terrified, I gave the men the impression that I was calm—steadying my breathing, swallowing my sobs.

"Let her go," Tintin shouted, "Look, I'll do it. I'll cross the beam. Just let her go."

"No you won't," the man holding me tightened his grip on my arm, "Your little girlfriend will do it, and if she dies, you'll be next to try. You don't have a choice. We're gonna get that money, whether she dies or not." I stared at Tintin—he stared back, his eyes told me he was planning something. But what? How would his plan help me now? "All right, let's go," the man removed the knife from in front of my neck and pushed me forward, the knife pointing into my back.

When we got to the top level, the man planted me right in front of the beam. "You can watch, but if you take a step closer, I'll kill you both." He was talking to Tintin and Isabelle, I realized as he pushed me forward onto the beam.

"My flashlight!" Isabelle exclaimed, "Sir, she can't see five steps ahead of her if she doesn't have my flashlight on her." Isabelle clicked on the light, and the wall in front of me was illuminated. "See! Now she can see!"

"Stop! Do not move any closer!" One of the men shouted. The light grew brighter as Isabelle moved closer to me.

"She needs to see, and I need to be closer to her so she _can_ see," Isabelle insisted, "Look, do you want the money or not? Because if she can't see, she's not gonna be able to get your money."

"Isabelle—" Tintin sighed.

"No! I have to make it so Nollie can see!" She snapped back at him.

"Fine. You can be here. But you may not speak a word to her, understand? If she does not retrieve the money from the vault she will be killed." I exhaled at his words, trying to remain as calm as possible. "You better start walkin', girly, we don't have much time to waste," he instructed, and I nodded.

"I know," I whispered, taking a step. This was the part I'd already done—the first six feet. I needed to focus in order to survive, in order to not fall to my death.

The only problem was, I couldn't. As I walked, my mind was swarming with thoughts. Tintin's arm was bleeding out from a gunshot wound he'd taken to protect me. Isabelle was holding a flashlight up at the other end of the beam, probably with a knife to her throat or a gun pointed at her head. Tintin could be in the same position—at gunpoint. I teetered as I took another step, exhaling. Everyone was always putting themselves at risk to protect me. Tintin did it more than anybody, and I couldn't stand it. What if he died trying to protect me? What if the bullet had gone into his chest, instead of his arm? I would have nobody.

Tears began to sting my eyes, but I blinked them away. No. Not now. I was twenty feet out, taking a step every ten seconds, moving three feet a minute. I couldn't cry now—I needed to focus. I needed to stay alive for twenty more feet. If something happened to Tintin, I would have Isabelle, Ruth, Audrey and Grace. I would have Rawnie and Kioni and Niara. I would be fine if something happened to Tintin. Everything would be fine.

I teetered again as I took the final step, off of the beam and onto the platform on the clear other side of the room. The vault stood in front of me: tall and gray and covered in soot. I moved toward it slowly, opening it and pulling the door toward me and stepping inside.

The room was filled to the brim with bills and coins—so many that I would have no way to get it all out on my own. I walked back to the beam, a plan brewing in my mind. "I need help!" I shouted, "There's too much money for me to take it all back on my own. I need Tintin and Isabelle to help me!"

Tintin came over first, hugging me when he reached the other side. "I have a plan," I whispered in his ear when he embraced me.

"I know." He kissed my cheek and let me go, right as Isabelle reached us.

"What's the plan?" She whispered as we got inside the vault

"Well, take as much money as you can and stuff it in your pockets and socks and anywhere else you can put it," I began, taking a stack of bills, rolling them into cylinders, and sticking them into my socks like they were a bunch of cigarettes. "Then we're gonna escape."

"How?" Isabelle asked, folding bills and coins into her pockets. Tintin approached the back wall and pushed against it.

"Brick's solid, Noll," he murmured, "I don't think there's a way out through here."

"There has to be!"

"Even if there was a way out, it's a ten story drop." He shrugged, "We'd be dead on impact. Our best bet is to just give the money to the men and head home."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"No. We can't go back to them. Once we give them the money, who knows what they'll do? They could kill us. There has to be another way to escape. Maybe there's a ladder on the side of the building? A fire escape, maybe!"

"Hey, what's taking so long?" One of the men shouted, "If you guys don't hurry up, we'll come over there!"

I walked out of the vault and shouted back my reply, "There's a lot of money in here! We'll be out soon, I promise!" I returned inside the vault and continued to pack money into my boots and socks. They became incredibly uncomfortable after I inserted a few more rolls, so I began to pack my trench coat pockets with money. Tintin had stuffed his wallet with so many bills that it was almost impossible to close it so he could put it back in his pocket—and there was still more money to take.

"Time's almost up!" A man shouted from across the beam, and my heartbeat picked up.

"Oh my God, we gotta get out of here," Isabelle exclaimed quietly. I stepped back from stuffing money in my pockets and surveyed the vault—which was just a tiny room walled in brick. There was a mid-sized window near the ceiling of the vault, and Tintin agreed to give me a boost to look outside of it.

"There's a fire escape to the left of here," I whispered, "I think we can fit out of the window!" Isabelle handed me her flashlight and I used the metal handle of the light to smash the glass out. Tintin had to stand up, me on his shoulders, so that I could be high up enough to get out of the window. I got a foothold on the brick wall below me and reached for the fire escape, which wasn't even a foot away from me.

"All right Nollie, be brave. Isabelle will be right out behind you," Tintin told me when I was still inside. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I whispered.

I wrapped my hands around the bars of the fire escape so tightly that my knuckles turned white before I pushed my feet off of the wall, throwing my abdomen into the fire escape. I tried not to scream in pain as my waist crashed into the metal bar, instead I pulled myself onto the platform of the fire escape and watched as Isabelle followed my lead. As soon as she made it onto the platform with me, Tintin pulled himself out of the window. His left arm was whitened from the blood loss, his right hand was still bandaged from the burn, and he gingerly pulled himself to safety on the platform, with a little help from me. As soon as he got on the platform, he hugged me tightly.

"You're the smartest person I've ever known," he murmured. As soon as he let go, we climbed down the fire escape as fast as we could—because when we got halfway down, the men realized we'd escaped and we were forced to move faster so we could reach the ground faster than them.

We beat them to the ground, barely. We were nearly to the car when they exploded out of the building and chased us down. They caught Isabelle first, then Tintin, who was exhausted from the entire ordeal, and finally, me. The biggest man, the one who'd held the knife to my throat and threatened Tintin and Isabelle with death, had caught me.

"_You_," he snarled after he caught me, "Why, this was your plan all along, wasn't it?" I was silent, and he pulled out his knife and placed the blade against my throat. "_Wasn't it_?" I started to cry.

"No sir," I sobbed, "N-no sir."

"Stop!" Tintin shouted, "It was my idea. I had the idea to escape. Let her go."

"No," my captor snapped, "She needs to be punished for what she did."

"She didn't do anything! I told you, it was me!"

I knew what I had to do in an instant. "Tintin, don't. You've already been shot trying to protect me. I did it, all right? I came up with the plan to escape so that my friends wouldn't be put through any more danger today. I love them, and I don't want to be the reason they get hurt anymore. So punish me. I escaped. I came up with the big master plan to get me and my friends out of there alive. And we lived. And if it'll keep them alive, then kill me." Nobody moved.

"Nollie." Tintin chided, "Stop." My captor let me go and I stood in front of him, staring him right in the eye, my back to Tintin.

"What are you waiting for? Do it," I challenged him, "Kill me and let my friends go." He didn't move. "I disobeyed your orders. I didn't bring the money back to you. I escaped. I should be punished." Again, nobody moved. "That was your plan all along, wasn't it? Once we got the money back to you, you'd kill all three of us. Well then get on with it."

"Let me go," Tintin pleaded his captor, "Please. I need to speak to her." His captor did as he was told, and Tintin approached me, shoes crunching on the gravel, embracing me. "Nollie, listen to me," he whispered in my ear, "You're not thinking clearly. You're exhausted. It's three in the morning and you need sleep. You've been through a lot today. We need to go home. They're gonna let us go, sweetheart, everything's gonna be okay." I began to cry halfway through his plea, and he hugged me tighter. "It's okay, it's okay."

"Just get out of here," my captor sneered.

"See, Noll? They're letting us go. We're going home. Let's go home, sweetheart." Tintin let me go and gestured for Isabelle to follow. I watched them walk away, before turning back to the wire-haired men, staring at them for a brief moment before walking towards them and taking a few stacks of bills from one of my pockets and handing it to the biggest man.

"There's still money in the building," I told him as I handed him the money, "There's a lot left. You can have as much of it as you want. I'm sorry I escaped. I'm sorry I didn't do what you wanted me to. You probably have a good reason for this money. Maybe your kid is sick or something serious like that… Thank you for letting my friends and I go." I turned back for the car. Tintin smiled as I approached, but in an instant his face darkened and he shouted something right as a blade went into my back. I screamed in pain and collapsed onto the gravel, watching as the man raised his knife to stab me again. The world slowed down again, as it had when I was falling, and I watched as something quick flew through the air and went straight into the big man's head before he could stab me again. Someone shot him. Tintin appeared beside me, gun in hand, staring at the other men. He shouted something I couldn't make out before bending over me.

"Nollie," he shouted, "Nollie, I'm right here. The men are all gone now, it's okay. We're gonna get you some help." He lifted me in his arms and put me in the back of the car with Isabelle, who cradled my head on her lap. "Keep her awake," he instructed, "Even if she just closes her eyes, it can be detrimental to her health."

"Why?"

"Because if she falls asleep, there's a chance she won't wake up." I barely remember the ride to the hospital, but Isabelle says she held my hand for the entire drive and continuously repeated my name in order to keep me awake. She talked to me about Sherlock, she told me about the fact that Wesley had admitted to fancying her last night and that was why she'd come over, to tell me about Wesley.

When we finally reached the hospital, Tintin carried me inside the emergency room and told them what had happened—oddly enough, he told me later, the situation didn't surprise them, and they knew who he was upon arrival. The nurses put me on a gurney and wheeled me away, telling the two that I'd be just fine.

I woke up to Tintin sound asleep beside me in my hospital bed, a bandage wrapped around his upper left arm. "Did they stitch you up?" I mumbled, and he woke up.

"You're awake!" He announced excitedly, "Nurse, nurse! She's awake!" A nurse with a nametag reading GREY came into the room, nodded when she saw me, and scribbled something down on a clipboard.

"You will both be discharged tomorrow morning," she said before disappearing again. Isabelle sat up on the sofa across the room and grinned.

"You guys are _alive_!" She exclaimed, "Oh, this is great. I'm gonna call Ruth and Grace and Audrey—" She vanished at this, and I turned to Tintin.

"Thank you," I murmured, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"What are you thanking me for?"

"You saved my life."

"I did nothing to save your life, sweetheart. I simply killed Bateson and scared the others away so I could get to you before they could."

"Still!"

"You're the real hero, Nollie sweetheart."

"I was the one begging for them to kill me—"

"You're my hero."

The next morning we returned home, hand in hand, and fell asleep on the sofa—exhausted from the events that had taken place in the past few days. One thing I knew: no matter what happened, Tintin would always be there to save the day.

**Nurse Grey was named after Meredith Grey. I'm a Grey's addict now, since May. xD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story & please review! I love you all :) ~DisneyPrincess55**


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